


Mine

by SecondFromTheRight



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Barry Allen Loves Iris West, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23093269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondFromTheRight/pseuds/SecondFromTheRight
Summary: She clamped it back, all of it. “I’m gonna stay with my dad and Cecile.” She stated before emotion could swallow her again.“Iris.” Barry whispered, pain and worry evident in his tone.Panic.Iris shook her head, continuing to keep her eyes down and away from his face. “I can’t be here, Barry,” she explained as she moved to pluck a jacket from a hanger. Taking a moment, she held the garment in her hands, feeling the material in attempt to settle herself, but bile raised when she remembered that even her clothes had been taken and worn. “I can’t be around you.” She added, putting the jacket on as a final show of her decision.“Iris–”“Stop saying my name!” she interrupted as she turned to him with anger, unable to keep it all back for any longer. “You’ve spent days calling someone else it.” She pointed out.Set immediately post-mirror world.Iris struggles to deal with the consequences of someone taking over her life.
Relationships: Barry Allen & Iris West, Barry Allen/Iris West
Comments: 54
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I need to mention that I haven't watched any of this season yet. So this is based on the few scenes and GIFs I have seen and frankly, I am confused about wtf is going on. I don't really understand the mirror world, how it works etc, and I'm also very confused about how much has changed since Crisis and who remembers what.
> 
> So this doesn't look at any conclusion of how Iris gets back home, or of Eva or anything of the like. It's just after.
> 
> Finally, I do not think this is how Westallen is going to handle this on the show. I wouldn't say it's OOC exactly, but I just don't see them going this route on the show. I do however think there is enough canon material to work with that allows this exploration that I've done *something* with. And truthfully, I am just constantly trying to write fics where Iris actually gets to deal with the shit she goes through because the show has lacked so many times there.
> 
> Anyway! It's not like any Westallen I've written before and so I'm nervous and I'm going to stop rambling now. Enjoy!

Iris sat in the chair by hers and Barry’s bed – a bed he’d shared with someone who wasn’t her, without realising it wasn’t her.

She’d been back for a few hours. Rescued, by Barry, by Wally.

She was starting to think something in the mirror world had affected her. _Infected_ her. That she’d been influenced by it.

At first being in her husband’s arms was everything – home. Then they’d gone back to the loft together and as Iris showered and changed into loungewear and comfy socks, she’d found herself looking at everything she touched, everything in sight, as though they weren’t really hers anymore. Like they were someone else’s. Like someone had taken them from her. Second by second, minute by minute, that peace and relief and safety she’d had faded away and anger, fear, _contempt_ replaced it.

She’d stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, suddenly afraid of her own reflection. She’d even tested the surface, with a combination of fear and spiteful resolve before the sight of her own face had driven her out the room as if someone was chasing her.

She felt like she was still stuck in the mirror world, watching someone else take and have what was hers without anyone even realising she was gone and she was powerless to do a thing about it. Everything she loved, everything she’d earned; her whole life. And all she could do was stand and watch. Instead of banging against the surface and screaming for Barry to hear her, now the screaming was inside her own head as she stayed still and silent on the outside. She couldn’t express it. Worse still, the unease inside her was quietening the need that usually guided her.

The need for Barry.

She still _felt_ it, but each time it gripped her enough that she almost went to him, something else, some other object of hers that had been touched and used and taken would catch her eye and that discontent would take over again. With it, an instinct of self-preservation she’d rarely felt so intensely. Like she was the only one she could rely on, and no one else would fight for her. But she wasn't even sure how to fight for herself right now.

In a way, Iris felt even more alone than she had behind the mirror. It was worse because she was back; she wasn’t supposed to be as powerless anymore, but everything felt different. And there was a growing feeling that some of it was Barry’s fault. She hadn’t expected to feel that; she hadn’t felt that in the mirror world. A deep desperation to get back to him, utter love and hollowing upset watching his own unease, his own loneliness that she’d just wanted to fix for him. But now, being back in their loft and realising she wasn’t okay had her feeling a betrayal she hated herself for.

Part of her was wishing she had been infected by something. Something that Caitlin could just remove from her. It would be easier. But Frost had given her the all clear. Everything that she was feeling, the negativity crawling through her – it was just her, now, it seemed.

Barry had already checked on her twice because she was taking so long. The second time he'd brought her some tea that now sat cold on the small table beside her. He’d been respectful and careful, taking heed that she clearly wasn’t ready for the company. That angered her more, a bubbling irritation threatening to take over as his every action spoke of what she'd been through, treating her like she was delicate and _different_. But instead of reaching out and telling him that, she just sat there with her knees under her chin, staring at the bed.

Before the feeling reached the point of making her scream aloud – she could feel it building – Iris finally turned away from the suddenly tainted furniture and went to their wardrobe where she reached up to grab a weekend bag from the top shelve before yanking a collection of clothes and shoving them in the bag.

“Iris?” Barry called from downstairs again, making her still momentarily.

Reservations swirled in her head, questioning if she was doing the right thing by essentially running away. Barry wouldn’t leave her if their places had been switched, one corner of her mind supplied, while an answering thought argued their places would never be really switched because she would have known it wasn’t him – unlike he had. Guilt immediately followed, angry at herself for entertaining the resentment she could feel continue to build inside her. It wasn’t his fault. None of it was. But knowing that rationally – even feeling it emotionally on some level – didn’t soothe away the crawling _wrongness_ she felt throughout. She couldn’t be here. And she couldn’t sit there feeling sorry for herself any longer either. She refused to do nothing.

Resolutely, she grabbed a few more items and quickly stuffed them in the weekend bag with everything else.

The bedroom door opened as she zipped the bag closed. Iris didn’t look up, overly focusing on the noise of the door against the carpet and quickly regretting it when it brought up memories of Barry coming to bed after another night of saving the city, or him simply coming to bed after turning everything off downstairs. Bringing her breakfast in bed. Them both tumbling their way into the room, wrapped up in each other. Then thoughts of him going to that bed with not-her followed.

She clamped it back, all of it. “I’m gonna stay with my dad and Cecile.” She stated before emotion could swallow her again.

“Iris.” Barry whispered, pain and worry evident in his tone. _Panic_.

Iris shook her head, continuing to keep her eyes down and away from his face. “I can’t be here, Barry,” she explained as she moved to pluck a jacket from a hanger. Taking a moment, she held the garment in her hands, feeling the material in attempt to settle herself, but bile raised when she remembered that even her clothes had been taken and worn. “I can’t be around you.” She added, putting the jacket on as a final show of her decision.

“Iris–”

“Stop saying my name!” she interrupted as she turned to him with anger, unable to keep it all back for any longer. “You’ve spent days calling someone else it.” She pointed out.

The words seemed to take both their breaths away, Iris feeling a heavy, sinking sickness that only got worse as she finally let herself stare at Barry’s face. He was an open as ever, his heart reflected in green eyes, the creases surrounding as he showed his emotion, showed her himself in a way she couldn't reciprocate right now. Pressing her lips together, Iris swallowed as she felt tears burn. Part of her almost hated herself for doing this to him; she did hate the one who had done this to them both, but it didn't shut out everything else enough that she felt she could change her mind.

Slowly, Barry took a step towards her as he opened his mouth. “Look…” he started before pausing. Awkwardly, he brought his hands together.

“I’m sorry, Barry,” she whispered tearfully before he could find his words again. She was _so_ sorry. She never wanted anybody to make him feel the way he was right now, the fact that she was the one to… A single tear escaped down Iris' cheek, giving her enough motivation to get out – just get out, away from all of it. “But I can’t.” she concluded as she picked up the weekend bag again and moved to the door.

Barry didn’t move as she did, and Iris found herself standing right in front of him. One last awful test before she could leave. She looked up at him, his eyes brimming with tears as well, his brow furrowed with sorrow like she’d seen so many times before.

“I love you.” Barry whispered, the ‘I love you, _Iris_ ’ unspoken, but she heard it. It was a vow, and an apology; a promised agreement and a helpless explanation.

She nudged her way past him carefully as he stood there, pulling her shoulder up to avoid touching him as she knew something so simple could having her crumbling – being in Barry’s arms was the safest place in the world for her. It always had been. What kept her from the pull of that desire was the utter fear that she wouldn’t find that safety now. And that would be even worse than the difficulty of rejecting the want.

So she denied it, and left him standing in their bedroom alone – the bedroom he’d recently shared with someone who wasn’t her, someone he hadn't realised wasn’t her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I haven't watched this season yet and this is probably when it becomes obvious. I can only apologise about anything that's wrong, or doesn't make sense because of what's been on the show this season.
> 
> It's possible I'll do another version of this after I've actually caught up, based on what actually happens. Not a re-write, but if I have feelings about the show, it's possible I'll need to work through them somehow ha. We'll see.
> 
> Also, this will probably be the only Barry POV chapter. I think.

Barry lasted until almost 7:30AM before finding himself on the West porch. He’d already been by 3 times during the night, each time making himself turn away. It was out of a respect for Iris’s request for space, and a deep fear of pushing her and driving her further away that he managed to leave.

The last couple weeks had ruined him a little. He’d missed her. He’d _felt_ it, even as he thought she was standing in front of him. He’d convinced himself he was the one who was wrong, that it was another part of what had changed after Crisis. But it was beyond a new skill or experience he didn’t remember – it hadn’t been _them_ , and he’d known it, feeling the distance and the absence of her. But each time he’d challenged it, the response had him shutting his mouth, stopping his questions and his attempt to fix the break in their connection because he didn’t want to lose her. He convinced himself he was the one broken, part of him simply missing now, gone with the multi-verse. And he’d take it, because he and Iris had lived through it and could continue their lives together – Nora. That was it, that he’d be grateful for enough to push everything else away. He couldn’t make himself risk losing her after all of it. He'd spent so much of their lives holding back how he felt about her out of fear of losing her. Crisis had brought it all back, knocking his confidence in a way he hadn't been prepared for.

Somehow he had lost her anyway. Again, holding back had made him lose her and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t do nothing, he just couldn’t; it was Iris. And without her, he wasn’t strong enough to stay away for any longer.

And he still missed her, he missed his wife, he missed them.

Using his key, he slowly opened the West door, knocking on it to announce himself even he poked his head around. “Hello?” he called out as he shut the door behind him.

“In here, Bear!” Joe said from the kitchen.

Following Joe’s voice, Barry headed towards the dining table where Cecile was sitting with a cup; Joe came through from the kitchen to greet him.

No Iris.

The constant hole he felt without her got bigger.

“Hey, guys,” he said before clearing his throat. Looking back and forth between them as he stood on the other side of the table, he leaned his hands on the back of a chair, trying to physically balance himself. He was sure from the sympathetic faces they were both giving him – Cecile staring up at him with a sad smile as Joe gave him a knowing look – that he already knew the answer to the question of why he was here, but he had to ask anyway. “Uhm, is Iris…?” he trailed off and the looks got worse.

“She already left for work.” Cecile was the one to let him down gently.

His grip on the chair got tighter as he leaned over, almost swaying on the spot and staring down as he nodded his head. “Right, thanks.”

“You alright?” Joe asked.

Barry stopped his fidgeting, a deep frown forming as he tried not to cry. He shook his head. “No, Joe. I’m not,” he whispered before exhaling a deep, tired sigh. Pulling out the chair, he collapsed onto it. “I don’t know how to fix things.” He admitted before looking across to them.

The silence that met him didn’t help his struggle as both Joe and Cecile stared back at him. Cecile looked pained and Barry wondered how much that was his fault, that it was his pain she was feeling.

Finally, Joe spoke. “Just…give her some time,” he said more awkwardly than Barry would like. The man who had raised him broke eye contact before even finishing, suggesting a lot to Barry about what Joe was really feeling about the situation. “She’ll come ‘round.” He added, the inklings of doubt obvious as move around the table and patted Barry on the shoulder supportively.

Barry watched him leave the space, going through the living room, probably to finish getting ready for work and he thought about Joe’s advice in the weeks before when he’d known something was wrong. Barry didn’t want him and Iris to grow without the other. Even if it was too intense and too much for most people’s standards, it wasn’t what he wanted. And he didn’t think it was what he and Iris were. He didn’t want space and part of him questioned Iris’ want for it.

He could feel Cecile watching him, assessing him from across the table.

She waited until Barry met her eyes. “Do you know how much love you both project?” she asked, causing the tears he’d been keep away to start pooling in his eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself breaking down. Probably picking up on the emotion, Cecile gave another sympathetic smile before it became larger, a real smile, almost joyful, though her watery eyes reflected Barry’s own. The expression confirmed Barry’s assumption that Cecile’s reaction was because of his emotion, because he was thinking about how much he loved his wife. “Especially when you’re together, it’s…” she trailed off with a shake of her head as she stared at him with some wonder before she gave a slight clear of her throat and sat up, straightening her shoulders as if resetting herself. “Well, I don’t get that kind of love from other couples,” she explained. “It’s so much a part of your thoughts, your motivations, all the time,” she further added as she met his eyes again. “I know you’re afraid of losing her.” She stated after a moment.

Barry swallowed; the acknowledgment of his fear spoken aloud causing a couple of tears to run down his face. Bowing his head, he wiped them away with his index finger. “Yes.” He whispered tearfully.

“Barry,” Cecile said sadly, her tone full of recognition of what he was feeling and making a sob build in him. Cecile sniffed as she reached across the table and put a hand on his. “You’ll work it out. You love each other too much not to,” she tried to reassure him. “Just…Listen to Joe, give her some time.” She added gently.

He nodded, biting his inner lip and making himself raise his head enough to give her as much of a grateful smile as he could manage.

How much time? Was it going to help? How would more time apart bring them back together? How would it make her realise how much he loved her? How could he show her that he knew her if she wasn’t there? How could he find any of his strength without her? How was he supposed to figure out everything that was different in this one-earth world without her?

He didn’t ask any of the questions going through his mind. He knew everyone knew that they loved each other – most of them had known that he loved Iris West before Iris even had and Barry doubted that was one of the changes post-Crisis. He wasn’t surprised by what Cecile said about the projection of their love – Iris was in his every thought, his every action in some way or another. She always had been. But this had to be decided by he and his wife only. And he had to push more than he had before.

He tried again a few hours later, going to her work.

Similarly to the morning at the Wests, he knocked before letting himself into her office and looked around. Unlike the morning, she was there this time, and just her.

“Hey.” He said as she stared at him from her chair. She was obviously unsure about him being there, her fingers stilling on the papers in her hand and then slowly, too slowly and too pointedly, putting them down on her desk and flicking through them. Barry could tell she was making herself stay seated instead of getting up to greet him with a kiss like she normally would. Even recognising it, even knowing why, it still hurt.

“Hi,” she said plainly, none of the frustration he knew she was dealing with showing in her voice. But the way she kept her attention on the papers instead of on him did show it. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you might want to get some lunch?” he asked carefully. Barry wasn’t sure if this was the right thing. Iris didn’t feel comfortable at the loft right now, or with him, and he didn’t want to mark her office as another place she couldn’t find her ground in again right now. He’d been so proud of what she was making of the Citizen, enjoying her drive and her happiness, even as he wanted to be involved as it grew, afraid to be left behind. He could push past that fear more than he had recently, but not enough to risk this place for her. He wanted to be there with her through it, not take her away from it. It’s why he hadn’t just brought lunch, figuring they could go somewhere else, somewhere more neutral.

She took too long to answer, holding a page of the papers in each hand. “I can’t,” she finally answered curtly, professionally, like she was just in work-mode, but Barry knew Iris in work-mode and subtly and disinterest wasn’t it. “I have a…a story I really need to work on,” she continued, the pausing displaying her weak excuse. Then her head lowered further. “I missed a lot while I was…gone.” She added, this pause heavy with emotion. Emotion that Barry felt too. He wanted her to confide in him, what it was like, and he wanted to explain how it was for him too. He wanted to reassure her that it wasn’t just her, that he did understand.

“Ir –” he started, cutting himself off when she noticeably stiffened at the start of her name. Tears stung his eyes again at the reaction. How could he not say her name? Exhaling, he took a moment before continuing. “I’d like to talk, if you get a chance,” he tried, but she didn’t respond. Frowning, he took a step closer to her desk just wanting her to at least look up at him. “I can wait. I mean,” briefly closing his eyes, he shook his head before clarifying. “I will wait, until you’re ready,” he promised. “I’ll always wait, for you.” He added helplessly.

Still, she didn’t respond, staying unnaturally still in her seat and clearly waiting for Barry to leave. He didn’t want to. He was supposed to be there for the breakdown he knew was coming. It was his place, by her side. It had always been where he belonged.

But he couldn’t cause her more pain.

He wouldn’t.

So he left, going back to the loft and trying to find the comfort in what was theirs in a way he knew Iris currently couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying it, even if it's a bit heavy right now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are so much shorter than I'd usually post. I'm just trying to get it out as I get it done.
> 
> Last time I'll say it, I promise, but this chapter likely is another that highlights my lack of current-show knowledge. I've never written Frost before, I haven't seen enough of her to get much of a real hold of what her character is now and I'm not actually sure if the show has changed the Frost/Caitlin dynamic at all? Are they still totally separate? So again, I'm sorry. I hope it works enough that it isn't terrible.

Iris made her way to STAR Labs less than an hour after Barry had shown up at her work. She couldn’t concentrate on any of it anyway, couldn’t make herself care enough. It seemed that had been taken from her too. Another part of her, of her identity and her strength. The things she would have been unable to ignore before, the drive to seek out a story, was overtaken by the mess going on inside her.

“Hi, can I talk to you?” Iris firmly requested as she found Frost in the lounge.

“Iris,” Frost acknowledged with some attitude. The blonde didn’t move from her position on the couch, her head leaned all the way back against the back cushions at an angle that looked seriously uncomfortable to Iris. She didn’t even open her eyes. “It’s just _lovely_ to see you too.” She snipped in a drawl.

“Sorry.” Iris gave with some sincerity even as she wanted to roll her eyes. The mixed feeling reminded her why she was here.

Frost sat up awkwardly at the apology. “Don’t worry about it,” she brushed off before looking up at Iris. “What’s up?” she questioned, running her eyes over her. “Iris? You in there?” she provoked when Iris didn’t answer, too stuck in her thoughts.

Meeting Frost’s eyes, Iris stared her down with a new determination. “I need to talk to you.” She demanded before taking a seat next to the blonde.

“O-kay,” Frost eyed her. “What is it? Need me to handle someone already?” she offered easily with a raise of her eyebrow, a twitch of a smirk to go along with it.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” Iris admitted as she ignored Frost’s assumption.

Straightening in a way that had her slowly, physically reeling away from Iris, Frost offered something else. “Do you want to talk to Caity?”

“No,” Iris shook her head. “You. It has to be you,” she determined. Frost stared at her, looking uncomfortable and out of her depth. Iris knew the feeling – and she dismissed it, dismissed Frost’s feelings. Now was not the time to tip-toe and placate Frost’s social issues. She took a breath before trying to explain what was at the forefront of her every current thought and action. “You spent…a long time, inside Caitlin’s mind, right? Without being able to do anything, without –”

“Control?” Frost interrupted. “Feeling trapped?” she added, quirking her brow again in a deliberate shift of power. Iris glared at her. “It’s not exactly the same thing. Caity’s the one who was…taken over, if anything” she finished softly, avoiding Iris’ eyes as she allowed some of her own guilt to seep in. “Are you sure you don’t want to –“

“No, Frost!” Iris was the one to cut in this time, out of patience. “It has to be you because…” she trailed off with a pant, suddenly feeling desperate. “Because…”

“Because I’m evil?” Frost supplied flippantly.

The air went out of Iris, grounding her in a way nothing had since getting rescued yesterday. She met Frost’s eyes. “You’re not evil.” She said gently, her inner need to care, to nurture, to calm, to help taking over.

Frost tilted her head as she stared back, blinking – it reminded Iris of Caitlin; that helped, encouraging those good parts of her. “But that’s why you want to talk to me, right?” she concluded as she gave a small, understanding smile that Iris latched onto.

“I feel so angry,” Iris confided as tears instantly burned and blurred her vision. Maybe it was better that way. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what’s mine and what’s…” the words caught in her throat. “And I want to do something about it,” she added gravely, fearfully. She shook her head. “I can’t even look at Barry without feeling so much resentment. At him, at myself, at her,” she explained before pausing again. “And it’s not passing.” She whispered tearfully.

“It’s been a day.” Frost said flatly.

“I know how I work! And it isn't like this!” Iris yelled, creating a new tension. Frost didn’t move, apparently not bothered by Iris’ anger. That pissed her off more, enough that she wanted to do something about it. Standing up, she moved herself away from Frost, trying to calm herself down as she scrubbed the tears from her eyes. “I don’t…” she started pacing a little, small back and forths as she folded her arms, almost wrapping them around herself. “I don’t get _angrier_ ,” she said with more desperation before it fell away again. “Not like this.” she whispered.

“Iris –“ Frost tried.

“What if I end up acting on it?” Iris continued before Frost could get in. Coming to a stop, she stared down at Frost. “Hurt someone?”

“Do you want to hurt someone?” Frost asked calmly and Iris found herself clinging to the tone as she had that small smile. The tone that said Frost was taking her seriously, but also wasn’t going to fall into any dramatics Iris may be putting out. Unlike moments before, it soothed something down inside of her again. The irony that Iris was the dramatic of the two of them also helped quieten the rage that remained.

“I…” she started. “I just want to be me. I want my life back.”

“Then take it.” Frost said simply.

Iris stared at Frost, entertaining what taking her life back would really involve. With a sigh, she flopped back down on the couch. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“That was a quick 180,” Frost noted with some amusement before turning towards Iris, shifting her leg so they were closer. “Look, Iris, you’re going to have to work through it. What you went through…” she paused, and Iris wondered if she was thinking about her own memories, or own takeover, of Caitlin. Her own resentment from being trapped away. “There’s consequences. It’s going to affect you and you have to deal with it,” she continued. “But I seriously recommend looping Barry in. You won’t get through it without him. You won’t…” her eyeline drifted down, her expression suddenly sad, before changing yet again. “Find yourself again without him. You’re both too…you know.” She finished with a twist of her mouth, mock-disgust at the sappiness of Barry and Iris and shutting down her feelings about her own conflicting experiences with Caitlin. Iris allowed it.

“Yeah.” She offered quietly.

“And if you’re angry,” Frost shrugged. “Be angry. Who says you can’t be?”

“I don’t want to be,” Iris shook her head. Boxing wasn't going to do it this time, though part of her wanted to try. But it wouldn't be enough, because it wasn't just the anger. “What if I can’t handle the answer?” she voiced aloud her thinking.

“Answer?” Frost frowned at the change of subject.

“Why Barry didn’t know.” Iris whispered, afraid of it, of what was true and what wasn’t, what all of it could mean. What if he’d changed in Crisis? What if they hadn’t really worked things out afterwards? What if they were just different now? Too different?

“This is really beyond my deal here,” Frost shot down with a turn of her body, sitting straight again. “Ralph probably has a book of advice for you. And if you wanted to take out some anger on him, at least you wouldn’t kill him.” She half-joked.

Iris let out something between a chuckle and a scoff.

“You’re a journalist. Your entire profession is based on ethics and truth. You’re going to know if you cross the line.” Frost said, reasonable and definitive in a way Iris was grateful for.

“Yeah,” Iris nodded. “You’re right,” She accepted, thinking about how the Snows had all crossed that line in medicine. If anyone knew, if anyone had that experience, it was Frost, and Caitlin. “Thank you.” Iris offered meaningfully, hoping Frost heard everything unsaid.

Turning towards Iris again, Frost’s face softened as much as it ever did. “You’re not still trapped in there, Iris. You have options, choices. Use them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still reading, thanks! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty dialogue-heavy. I've broken it up a little in a way I normally wouldn't, so I hope it flows okay.

“Barry!” Iris exclaimed breathlessly as Barry whooshed her away without notice from where she’d been hiding out in her office later that night. She hadn’t even seen him arrive, and she wasn’t ready for him. Stumbling away, she took a steadying breath as she focused on his feet, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Barry said in a rush. Iris half expected him to back up too, but he stood firm. “I’m sorry to push you. I just…” he exhaled. “I needed to talk to you, and I didn’t think you’d come.” He said in a firmer tone.

The surety made Iris look up. Briefly, she caught his eyes before turning to properly assess their surroundings. Jitters rooftop. “Why here?” she asked with a wondering shake of her head.

“It seemed…right.” Barry explained. “And I needed it.” He added, honesty and vulnerability lining in his voice; it broke her, and she was almost happy for that, for reacting to it more like she should, more like herself.

Inhaling deeply, she tried to prepare herself. “Okay, talk.”

“Can you look at me?” he requested, the vulnerability now cracking his words and Iris felt it. Her husband, her Barry, in pain. “Please,” He pleaded softly, making her look up and meet his eyes. Barry hurt wasn’t something she could ignore. So often, his pain had felt like her pain. And while she still felt confused, and scared, and angry, it had lessened from the night before, making all the difference. She wasn’t strong enough to turn away from him. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

A gratefulness had the corners of his mouth turning up, and the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stared back at her. Iris saw the recognition of what she was going through in his expression, the understanding she needed to see. “I love you so much,” he said. It sounded like the vow it had always had. “I know you’re doubting that right now.” He added with a pinch of his brows.

Iris shook her head, love and sadness fuelling her more than the other emotions still swirling. “That’s not it, Barry,” she reassured softly. “I just…”

“You don’t understand how I couldn’t know it wasn’t you.” He finished for her.

She stared at him, exhaustion suddenly taking over and causing tears to well. “We’re supposed to be a team. I thought we were. I thought…” with a hopeless shake of her head, she trailed off.

Barry nodded as he bowed his head, accepting what she said, before he took a noticeable deep breath, exhaled it and looked up again. His eyes traced over her, then he started talking as he took a step closer. “I’ve changed the timeline…a number of times – too many times,” he admitted with a self-deprecating scoff. “And something I’ve realised over and over is how much one thing can change…so many other things. Including you.”

He stared at her a way she’d seen so many times before. In love, and afraid. She knew the feeling.

“The first time I ran back in time, when we first kissed…” his face softened further, clearly remembering an experience that she didn’t. He wet his lips. “In the second go of that day, you…you were so far from the actions of that first time,” he said with a small, sad smile that Iris didn’t know how to properly respond to. She knew how different things had been, but no matter how many times Barry had explained, she’d never have the same memory as him. “When I created Flashpoint – I’d ran back in time in part because you had kissed me and told me you would wait for me while I figured out what I needed to do. But after I came back…” he continued more confidently, less fragile. “That hadn’t happened,” He gave another small, sad smile. “And after Crisis, I knew even more had changed, again, though I didn’t know what or how exactly,” he explained as the confidence increased, his tone sounding sure in a Flash way. A leader. “Even as far back as that first… _first_ , that I erased by accident – I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand how it could be _so_ different.”

He looked down between them. Iris followed his focus, watching him take her hand. “You’re fearless, Iris. You always have been,” he continued, drawing her eyeline back up; he was already staring at her. “You’re more alive than anybody I’ve ever known. You react to a moment, to everything that’s happening. You don’t hide away from any of it. You take it on, head first and full heart, every time,” he praised. “So if something, about that moment, is different…” trailing off, the indication was obvious. _She_ was different.

“Barry.” She uttered automatically in protest without meaning to.

This wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. She felt for what he’d gone through with any change in the timeline. She’d tried to be there for him through those times before, encouraging him to be as strong as she knew he was – she didn’t want him to go through any of it alone. But it didn’t make a difference to what was happening now. Iris was shaking her head when he continued, gripping her hand in a way that showed he knew she was ready to pull back. It wasn’t enough to fix things, but it was enough to keep her standing there with him for longer.

“I did realise how different you were – I _felt_ it,” he said as he stared down into her eyes. “I knew you were…” a tear ran down his cheek as he trailed off again, quickly wiping away the tear with the knuckle of his index finger. “I knew you weren’t with me,” he said as he stared down at her, taking her in. Licking his lips, he refocused. “But between adjusting to life _after_ Crisis - after Nora - and the changes in the world and timeline _because_ of Crisis, everything new at The Citizen, I…” sighing, he showed the same exhaustion Iris felt. The same loneliness, like he was in the wrong place. “I’m trying to understand everything that’s different. It’s hard. But I can…I can handle any change, any new enemy or lost connection as long as I have you. I told myself that _I_ was the one out of sync, not you. I let myself believing that I was holding you back. That it was just like those other times, when small things made such big differences to you, and to you and me.”

“But it’s not the same.” Iris rejected in a tearful whisper. That part of her that she hadn’t been able to get a handle on what she was feeling wasn’t soothed enough. It reared back at what he said because it didn’t help. It wasn’t something that _helped_. It wasn't something that made any of it make sense in a way she could do something with. She’d been afraid of the answer to why he hadn’t known it wasn’t her, but this wasn’t an answer she had any real connection with, no matter how much her heart reacted to his hurt. It wasn’t anything she had any kind of conscious impact on; it wasn’t her choices that Frost spoke about.

“I know, I know it’s not,” Barry rushed to say, panic was in his voice again, like yesterday, and he took hold of her other hand, keeping her there. It was a comfortable position for her, being almost framed by Barry because of his height. She felt the draw of it, almost physically pulling her in.

“But having been in similarly times before…that’s what I convinced myself it must be. You are the most important thing in the world to me; you’ve always been the most important thing in the world to me. Losing you? It’s my worst fear. More than evil metahumans, more than life without The Flash, more than Thawne, more than experiencing something no one else remembers – _losing you,_ ” with a tilt of his head, he gave a tiny, loving smile as he let go of her left hand and brought his to her face, gently brushing away the tears settling at the corner of her eyes. He kept his hand there, caressing her skin down her cheek and along her jaw.

It brought more tears to her eyes. Closing them in an effort to find some ground again, Iris let out a small gasp before taking in an inhale that was more unsteady than she’d like.

“I didn’t want to see it, and I didn’t want to challenge the things I did question even more in case I pushed you away. Everything I’ve lost in Crisis – _everyone_ – I can get through it, because you’re by my side. But I couldn’t lose you – I can’t lose you. I should have risked it. Even though it…” With her eyes still closed, she felt his exhale on her face rather than saw it. “It terrifies me,” he said as his voice trembled. “I still should have – I should have realised the part of me that was missing, was you. Because of course it was,” he gave a watery, quiet laugh. “It’s not just The Flash that doesn’t exist without you, Iris. There’s no Barry Allen without Iris West.”

“Barry.” She reacted with a shiver, seemingly the only thing she could say right now. It was the first time he’d said her name and she couldn’t ignore the physical pull anymore, leaning into his hand still touching her face. His words reminded her too much of those other times she’d felt a little removed from him, when she’d felt useless. She understood being terrified, she understood the conflict – she felt it now. And she had the choice to share that with the love of her life, or to walk away from it.

“But I know you, Iris,” he continued confidently before she could work through how she felt. “Even in this post-Crisis world, I know you. I know not only how much you love brownies, but I know the way you respond to the taste of them. The way your mouth moves in pleasure and approval of them, the way you wait and chew and chew and chew,” he let out a little laugh she couldn’t help smiling back at. “When you’re not ready to declare judgement yet. How the space right here,” he continued as he raised his hand from her cheek and softly brushed the skin between and above her eyebrows. “Creases just slightly when whatever brownie it is doesn’t satisfy you, even though you usually end up finishing the whole thing anyway.” He finished with another laugh.

Pausing, he stared down at her in a way only Barry could. No one had ever looked at her with the adoring look that Barry so often gave her. That look that caught her between thinking there was no way he could really see her because the love on his face was so pure, and believing with every part of her that he saw everything that she was because it was so _blatant_.

Iris sniffed, emotion taking hold of her again.

Giving her a small but heartfelt smile, he continued by letting his hand drop down to her shoulder where he ran his fingers along her neck, causing her eyes to flutter closed. “I know how your hands feel looped behind my neck and the exact height of me you reach both when you’re on your tiptoes, and when you’re not.”

Iris felt captivated to the moment, to the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand.

His focus turned lower, signalling a new point of attention by slowly dragging his fingertips down her shoulder and arm before moving inwards at her waist. His fingers briefly paused there before he dipped them again over her hip and down further, making her stomach twitch as he skimmed down to her top of her thigh, as low as he could reach from his stance. “I know the way your clit throbs against my tongue just before you come, and how your inner thighs tense and tighten when you can’t take anymore,” his tone was deeper now and Iris forced her eyes open, trying to counterbalance the way her breathing was becoming shallow at his actions.

The attempt to find some control didn’t work when she saw his face. As much as Barry’s adoring look affected her, the way he was staring at her body with such obvious intention affected her in entirely different ways.

In a shift, he took hold of her hand again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I know the power of your right hook,” he chuckled, breaking the tension he’d built. Then he exhaled a breath and raised his head to meet her eyes again, his focus searching her face in yet another way. His lips tugged into a different smile as well. One that Iris recognised and had her frowning a little, further as his head tilted. “I know that you still think about Eddie sometimes, and you don’t tell me because you worry it will upset me.”

She squeezed his hands in apology, causing him to give the barest shake of his head, looking down at her with acceptance. Then he stepped closer into her space and secured the grip of her hands again. “I know that our story, before or after Crisis, is ours, and how much we’ve loved each other through it all. I know that you hate feeling like you’re powerless more than anything, and…” he took another moment and Iris could only wait, completely consumed by his words, his touch, his eyes. “And I know that you get angry, and more determined and…composed, on the outside when you’re most afraid and vulnerable inside.”

Tears she’d been keeping back flooded her eyes as Barry rooted out the heart of it.

“And I know that you’re so much braver than me. I know that you can get through this, Iris.” he encouraged, sounding so much more confident than she could understand. But Barry had always believed in her. His face became vulnerable again. “Please don't shut me out.” he finished in a whisper.

It was hard not to believe him. The validation and recognition she needed; being _seen_ so clearly after what had happened. Especially as she was trying herself to figure out who and what she was now.

Taking a breath, she twisted her left hand in Barry’s hold, repositioning the grip so she could use the leverage to lean up towards him. With her right, she let go of his before sliding up over his neck, anchoring herself until she had a good enough balance to push up on her toes as she encouraged Barry down to meet her.

He let her lead, keeping perfectly still as he stood in her hold, waiting for her.

They stared at each other, even as their faces got closer – close enough to kiss, but though Barry’s lips parted for her, he didn’t close his eyes until her lips actually touched his. Iris kept hers open for a few seconds longer – something she didn’t generally do, but part of this felt like a test and she wasn’t sure she was ready to let go yet. She needed that connection to the cement of the roof under her feet, the night sky around her and the sounds of Central City from all directions. She needed those other stimuli to keep her in the moment enough that she would know what was her choice, and what was simply her love for the man in front of her.

The kiss was soft, a slow and gentle brush of her lips against his. She tracked Barry’s mouth when she pulled back so much that when she lifted her eyeline to his, she found him staring down at her already in a way that sent a shock through her body. The intensity of that look was powerful, but he didn’t say anything, or even move, still under Iris’ direction and whatever she was deciding.

So she kissed him again.

With more pressure, more purpose.

Part of her said she should stop and pull back, protect herself, stand her ground – but she didn’t _want_ to stop, she didn’t _want_ to pull back. This was her husband, her best friend, her partner, her life; hers. Standing her ground meant taking _them_ back, protecting herself meant protecting _him_ , _their_ love and connection.

This was the most important part of her, reflecting her hopes and her passion, her fears and her strengths, for years of her life. Her priorities. Her _choices_. All of it was reflected by Barry. The man she loved, the man she had been blessed with, the man she’d found herself in, the man she had _chosen_.

Hers.

_Barry._

It was up to her if she wanted to take it all back, or not.

_Hers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Is Jitters still there post-Crisis? It fucking better be.
> 
> So I know a lot of this uses earlier seasons material, but I thought it would still work with what's happened since then, and hopefully now. I think a lot of this stuff is really core to Barry and Iris period, and how they react sometimes.
> 
> Lemme know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the ratings change.

With new resolve, Iris slid her hand higher up Barry’s neck until she was threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and tugging him closer, where she wanted him as she deepened the kiss. When she put her tongue into his mouth, Barry let out a moan that trembled through his lips. It seemed to break him from holding back as he let go of the hand still linked with hers and wrapped both arms around her instead, offsetting the leverage that had her balance shifting and falling against him. But he had her, his arm tightening on her back and steadying her until their bodies were flush. Even more, he helped keep her height up, holding her when she couldn’t remain on her tiptoes, sharing the effort.

“Barry.” She whispered in a breath before quickly reclaiming his mouth again.

Barry met her every demand, matching the push and pull of her every move, taking everything she gave, and giving it back.

It was balance she’d been seeking for days now; the loss of which she’d felt for weeks now, trapped away from him.

The press of his chest against hers and of his fingertips on her back overwhelmed the feel of the cement under her. The smell of him, that she knew so well, the deodorant and the body wash that they bought together – and the familiar quiet groans he made filled her senses over the activity of the city. The heat of them together shut out the crispness of the night air.

Everything she was sure to avoid moments before became all she wanted now – became _everything_ she wanted.

She wanted more of it.

Untangling both hands from him, she braced her hands on his shoulders instead and started pushing him backwards towards the end of the roof, towards the benches she used to take some of her breaks on when she worked in Jitters, the benches that sat apart of the surroundings of her first visits with The Flash.

Iris pushed him to sit before rushing to undo her jeans and unzip her boots. She yanked them off and shoved the skinny jeans down her legs as quickly as she could, kicking them off to side until she stood there in her underwear, her sweater and coat. She went to shrug out of her mac coat but Barry stopped her, reaching out to tug her closer before pulling the coat forward, covering her. Then he rubbed his hands down the sides of her thighs under the coat. It took her from the frantic tension.

Iris frowned down in question at her husband.

“It’s cold.” He reasoned softly, still stroking up and down her skin.

Iris let out a short, endeared laugh as she watched him.

Barry noticed her attention. “What?”

Shaking her head with a smile, she closed the final space between them and straddled his lap, the chill of the bench against her knees and the feel of her coat hitting the back of her legs making her smile even more. “You’re just…” she trailed off, sucking in her bottom lip and biting into it. She cupped both his cheeks. “My Barry,” she whispered as they stared at each other. Always her hero. His eyes brightened, his shining up at her in the dark. She could keep the coat on, she decided. “Touch me, Barry.” She softly ordered.

Not needing further encouragement, Barry’s put his hand between her legs, pressing his fingers against her through her panties. She wasn’t as aroused as she wanted to be, and Barry knew it. “Okay?” he checked with a look up to her.

Nodding, Iris sat up and back a little with determination before grabbing Barry’s neck and kissing him passionately. Barely separating, she spoke against his lips. “Don’t stop.” She said as reached down with her free, right hand and quickly unbuttoned Barry’s jeans, practically shoving under the waistband of his boxers until he was in her hand. She wasn’t that aroused, but she felt like she was on the edge of it. She could be, she could lose her mind, she just needed –

“ _Iris._ ”

That. She needed that.

A shiver went through her and she gripped Barry further as she lowered herself again; Barry’s hand followed her and his second supported her waist.

It was _her_ name, and _her_ husband saying it. With a love and a want that was directed at _her_ , about _her_.

“Again,” she breathed. The opposite response greeted her, Barry’s touch stilling everywhere as he pulled back to look up in question again. She stared at him, her breathing deepening. “My name, Barry. Say it again.” She urged.

His body noticeably relaxed further, a soft smile lighting his face. “ _Iris_.” He indulged, the word exhaled like it was breath alone.

Tears sprung to her eyes again, overwhelming her with everything else she was feeling. She stroked him to full erection, rocking into the refocused movement of his fingers as she covered his mouth with hers, leaving bruising kisses that he allowed. It wasn’t until he slid under her panties and touched her properly that she realised she was suddenly wet, the arousal she’d been seeking allowing Barry to enter a finger inside her.

“Iris.” He groaned against her lips at the slickness he found. She continued to rock into his hand, encouraging more; he obliged, filling her with another and pushing the heel of his palm up against her clit.

Taking him out of his boxers, she shimmied forward impatiently. “I need you.” She panted.

Using the bench behind Barry’s shoulder to lean on with her right hand, she knocked his hand away and moved to line him up, keeping her panties to the side. Taking the tip of Barry inside her, she shuddered forward slightly when he didn’t slide in the way she wanted.

Barry cupped her cheek, directing her attention to his face. His look was one of understanding, of compassion, but it just flared more determination. Being seen so clearly was just as powerful as the moments before, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted the combination. The acknowledgement, the familiar and the safe as well as the risk. The combination of sex on Jitters rooftop. New and known. Control _and_ seen.

Pushing past the discomfort, she took more of him inside her. She knew his body, she knew how he felt inside her, she knew it would be okay – she knew she could handle it. That continued familiarity, the surety, drove her actions until she was fully seated on his lap and finally paused to adjust. Her breathing was heavy, exhaling through her nose in slow and deep breaths.

The fingers at her jawline guided her again and Barry was the one to kiss her this time, to encourage them. It was a move that showed her he was still seeing her, still reading her, but he was letting her choose and he’d be right there with her for it. A team, like Iris thought they were. Exactly like she wanted.

He’d arched up to reach her and Iris felt them hit the bench as he sat back, taking her with him. The jilt had him rock inside her, just barely, but enough that she felt the friction at her clit and the stretch of him crossed the line from discomfort to satisfying.

Concentrating on his mouth, the feel of his tongue against her, Iris allowed herself to relax some more. Taking her balance from the bench, she moved both her hands to his jaw and his neck, so Barry was the only one holding her, the only one stabilising her. Finally, she moved her hips as she started to ride her husband.

Again, Barry was there with her, also shifting his hands so the one tightened on her waist and he dropped his other a little lower, his thumb almost digging into the crease of her upper thigh in a way that encouraged her to push into, her movement deepening.

Their kissing became broken, interrupted by breaths and pants, but she didn’t pull back, nor did Barry encourage her to. Instead, in between the messy press of their lips, tongue and sometimes teeth, Iris found herself simply breathing into his mouth as she rode him.

Faster, and harder, until she was as wet as usual, until she could hear her arousal along with a slap of flesh, until the stretch was fullness, and right, and _Barry_.

“Iris.” Barry breathed into her.

“Mine,” she found herself declaring. “You’re mine.” She repeated before sealing his mouth with hers.

_Her_ husband, _her_ best friend, _her_ love.

“I’ve always been yours,” he vowed in another break of their lips. “Always only yours, Iris.” His grip on her tightened, encouraging her impossibly closer.

Similarly, Iris continued her own level of possessiveness, driving her to drag her fingers backwards along his skin to fist the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Barry,” _Mine_ , she whispered as she took hold of his chin with her free hand until she was pressing her thumb and index finger into the lining of his mouth, keeping him there as she kissed him.

“Barry,” _Mine_ , she repeated as she quickened her pace even more, fucking her husband.

Barry helped as her thighs burned, encouraging her up and down at her waist, his fingers slipping under the sweater she was still wearing.

“Barry,” _Mine_ , she panted.

_Her_ husband. His hands on _her_. His cock inside _her_. His mouth on _hers_. His breath against _hers_.

She was numbly aware of the thumb at her top of her left thigh lowering, his fingers moving down until he was tugging her underwear further away and his thumb was on her clit. He pressed hard, suddenly, circling vibrations against her in a way that had her back snapping into an arch.

“Barry!” _Mine!_ She cried, throwing her head back as she came.

He went with her, following her, and closing the distance she’d created. His nosed his way up her neck, thrusting up into her as he found his own release.

The drag of his nose changed to soft kisses along her neck, the grip on her waist became lighter, and another press of his hand on her back joined as he switched from between her legs, and he eased them both back against the bench again.

Everything she’d blocked suddenly came back as she caught her breath. The cool air, the sounds of the city, discomfort on her knees, feel of her own sweat. But Barry was still there too, still inside her, still steadying and holding her with a hand on her back. A sob took over and she found herself jutting against him. She closed her eyes and buried her head into his neck, trying to drown everything else out. But she couldn’t, and everything she’d felt was there again. It wasn’t fixed, _she_ wasn’t fixed. She still couldn’t go home, or concentrate on the work she loved.

“Iris,” Barry soothed, both hands fully holding her now. She let out another sob at that, tears gathering and running down her face and against the already slick skin of his neck. “It’s you and me.” He whispered, maybe reading her mind as she tried to shut out all the rest of it.

“I’m sorry.” She said hopelessly into his neck.

His hand stroked steadily up and down her back. Solid. “It’s you and me,” he repeated, dismissing her apology even as he softened inside her. “I want you to feel…whatever you feel.”

“I’m not sure of how I feel, Barry.” She cried as she pulled back, wiping the tears from her face.

Somehow, in all her state and contrast to their previous moment, he smiled at her. Indulgent, understanding, loving – Barry. He brought a hand to her face and brushed the hair out of her away and behind her ear. He lingered there, catching the few tears still streaming. “So we take it moment to moment, second to second until it’s hour to hour, day to day, week to week – until it’s not in your every thought.” He reasoned and Iris heard all of Barry’s losses in the words, everything he’d had to get through – she’d been there for all of it.

“Okay.” She accepted with a sniff before wrapping herself around him again, her face back in the hallow of his neck. She kept her face there even as she lifted herself from him and let Barry sort himself out. He also repositioned her panties. More tears came when he pulled her coat tighter too, still trying to protect her, take care of her.

“We probably shouldn’t fall asleep here.” He said quietly after some time.

Iris didn’t say anything for a moment, until the silence pressed enough that she felt she had to. “Are you sure?” she sniffed. “I’m not ready to go to the loft yet.” Iris said against Barry’s neck. She felt herself clinging to him further as she said it, trying to balance the fear that returning to the loft would ruin this fragile ground that she’d found, and not wanting to separate from Barry even enough that he could go to the loft himself.

“We don’t have to, we can stay at the house tonight. If…you’re okay with me being there with you?” Barry asked, all sweet and careful and _asking_ , as if they hadn’t just fucked on the Jitters roof.

“I’m okay with you being there.” She whispered with a soft smile before letting out an exhale, trying to use the love she felt to let her tension fall away again.

“I love you.” Barry said, maybe acknowledging her moment.

“I love you.” She promised. It was the one thing she was sure of right now – the one thing she wanted to be sure of right now, above everything else. It was the thing that everything else stemmed from, the thing she believed would be the best way to find the rest of herself through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. And thanks so much especially for comments and kudos. I've felt uncomfortably nervous and insecure about this one, so I really appreciate any love.
> 
> Also, sorry that I keep changing the chapter amounts. Like I said already, I'm just trying to get it out as I get it done. I hope that's okay!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter after this. One last one, I promise. I was going to wrap it with this chapter but I made a choice in this one that made want to add something later. It will be short, and will be Barry's POV. I feel a bit unsure about that, considering this is Iris-focused, but I think (hope) it will turn out okay.
> 
> Hope you've all enjoyed this :)

The second the West door shut behind them and they’d both past the step into the living room and saw the house quiet, Barry grabbed her hand and spun her around. His lips were on hers before she really realised, her body positively reacting to her husband before her brain fully caught up.

She stood there stunned, confused even as she tried to find her breath again. Blinking up at him in question, his hands stayed on her face, her neck.

He smiled lovingly at her. “So many times, we’d come back home from whatever we’d been doing, wherever we’d been, and I’d just want to kiss you,” he explained as he brushed hair behind her ear. “I’d wish I was brave enough to, to tell you how I felt about you.”

She loved him. That was her main thought as she reached out to finger the fabric of his shirt. “You can kiss me now.”

Barry took her up on the offer, dipping his head to meet her as she used the grip on his shirt to push herself up.

The kiss became more passionate and Iris switched her hands to loop around his neck instead, getting closer. The questioning thought of how problematic reliance on sex with her husband was for a coping mechanism was flashing through her mind when Barry stopped them. “I know I started this but…” he trailed off, catching his breath.

Iris didn’t say anything, only nodded at his reasoning as she dropped her arms and rubbed her lips together. Then with a tilt of her head, she gave his jacket a slight yank before heading up the stairs to the bedroom she’d crashed in last night. She didn’t know where Wally had ended up, maybe a friend’s place while he was in town. She’d been too distracted to even think it through much.

“Iris?” Barry questioned, making her realise she’d sighed aloud as thoughts that being a good sister was another part of her lost, swirled in her mind.

“I’m okay,” She dismissed it as they entered the bedroom. He eyed her knowingly, but let it go.

With a look around, they both seemed to become aware that they were back in a bedroom since yesterday. They were feet apart, each standing awkwardly, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it. She was tired, and needed a shower.

Grabbing a head scarf along with clean panties and a knitted sweater from her bag, she made the decision for both. “I’m going to clean up.”

His hand latched onto her arm as she past, quick enough that she thought he must have used his speed. It was different from downstairs moments before. When she looked up and met his eyes, he was holding himself more intensely than she was. She wondered how Barry had spent the night without her. He didn’t seem as exhausted and drained as she was, but the fear suddenly on his face, in the grip of his hand, gave it away.

In attempt to reassure, Iris covered his hand with her free one, giving his fingers a squeeze to let him know that while things weren’t perfect, she wasn’t leaving him. His grip loosened until he fully let go, but she felt his tracking stare as she left the room.

With her hair wrapped, Iris stood in shower, carefully avoiding letting the lukewarm spray reach too high. She focused on washing her lower body, rinsing away the leftover of sex, before following with her torso. Lightly with a washcloth, she washed under her arms and her neck where she’d worked up a bit of a sweat under her sweater and coat as she’d ridden Barry – and after, when she’d overheated in a mess of tears.

She ignored the want to fully submerge herself under the water, the desire to fully scrub up, to turn up the temperature, to ruin the composure she had left.

Making herself turn off the flow and stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her body and found herself staring at the mirror above the sink. Again. There was slight mist of condensation in the middle. Not enough to block the reflection of herself, but enough to blur her face somewhat.

The door opened suddenly opened, revealing a concerned-looking Barry. She hadn’t heard him and when she turned back to the mirror, the condensation was gone and it was just her reflection staring back, making her wonder how long she’d been in standing there for. When Barry’s focus moved from her to the mirror and back again, she tilted her head down and away, wanting to hide the obvious weakness.

“You okay?” he asked as he came into the room and clasped his hand around her upper arm before she could fully turn away.

Iris nodded it away and turned in his arms to reach for the toothbrush and toothpaste she should have finished using already.

“We could get rid of them.” He suggested, making her pause in her movement.

She looked up at him flatly, understanding his meaning. “All of them?” her tone indicating the impracticality of the solution.

Barry shrugged, giving a thoughtful twist of his lips as he looked at her. “If you want to.” He entertained.

She was pretty sure he was calculating how many seconds it would take for him to remove all of the mirrors in Central City. She wanted to find the amusement in it, but she just felt sad, and useless. A burden was something she refused to be. She’d never find herself again.

Letting out a loud sigh, Iris sat down on the side of the bathtub. “I think that might be a bit much.” She said with some force even as fresh tears came to her eyes. The anger, uselessness was rising again. This time most of annoyance was directed at herself. She didn’t have enough energy to be angry, instead she felt a resignation that pulled her down.

“A lot of the aspects of our lives are a bit much.” he reasoned; Iris could hear the wry smile on his voice but still she couldn’t respond to it.

She looked up at him. “I want my life back, Barry, not change all of it because I can’t live it anymore. It’s _my_ life.” She implored as if either of them had the instant power to do anything about it.

Barry lowered himself in front of her, taking her hands in his on her lap. His grip was around both the toothbrush and toothpaste she held. It was an odd thing to see, silly in such a serious moment, but when she met Barry’s eyes, she remembered him in front of her in a similar position and telling her he would marry her anywhere, anytime. She hadn’t handled the lack of control during that mess either. The bad luck that took things away from her. But even when she had found some power again, found ground again, things still hadn’t worked out how she’d wanted. She’d planned her perfect wedding, booked everything she wanted in the end, but it hadn’t mattered because through bad luck and overbookings and the stress of getting everything right, she had never planned for Nazis of another world to crash her wedding. It wasn’t something she could have planned for. Barry’s words had been accurate past the meta of the week. He’d married her after a funeral, without the rest of their loved ones and with another couple deciding to make the moments theirs as well. It reflected the previous funeral they’d been to – HR’s, and what came after – another moment about them that wasn’t how Iris would choose.

But he’d come back. And he had married her. She’d married the love of her life.

_Her_ husband.

_Her_ Barry.

“I watched you.” She revealed in something of a daze.

He brushed the skin of the back of her hand, over and over, back and forth. “I felt you,” he said with a gentle smile. “Come on,” he said as he stood, encouraging her to do the same. “You and me.” He reminded as he brought her hand to his mouth, pressing a loving kiss to the back of her hand.

She got herself through brushing her teeth. A toothbrush wasn’t something she’d grabbed when leaving the loft so she was using was the lone spare her dad and Cecile had in the house. Barry stood by her side the whole time, and she tried to take comfort from it.

Spitting, she rinsed the toothbrush before holding it out for him. He didn’t make a move to take it, instead eyeing the thing like he had no plans to touch it. “You’ve used it.” He pointed out.

“And?” she challenged with a raise of her eyebrows.

The way his face twisted made her momentarily forget everything else weighing on her mind, amusement finally taking over. “And it’s gross.” He accused seriously.

“Barry, my saliva – my tongue – has been on every inch of your body, many times.” She argued, feeling soft for the first time all day, feeling normal for the first time all day.

Barry’s practically scowled at her. “That’s not the point – or the same,” he pushed back. Indulging him, Iris reached into the cabinet by her side. Plucking the mouthwash out, she handed it to him. “Thank you.” He said before methodically taking off the cap, rinsing it under the tap, using it to take a mouthful, rinsing it again with a harsh scrub of his thumb, before finally recapping it until it clicked into place. It was a routine she recognised, but somehow not being in their own place had ramped up the care of it all.

Reaching up, she kissed his cheek, softly stroking his other as she used her hold on his face for balance. “You’re very cute, Barry Allen.”

It felt domestic and she wanted to fall into it. They weren’t in their bathroom, or their home. They weren’t because someone had pretended her bathroom, her home, her husband was theirs, and now Iris was trapped in a new way. But it had been their bathroom once, had been their home once, and it was enough to onto the feeling.

Barry quickly showered before putting his boxers back on. She noted that even though she wouldn’t have noticed his absence, he chose not to just speed back to the loft for some clean clothes. It was a small, possibly ill-advised gesture she was overly appreciative of.

She changed in front of him, mostly successfully blocking out the part of her that told her to hide away. She wasn’t doing that, she wouldn’t. It was a line she didn’t want to cross because she wasn’t sure she’d find her way back. She did put her underwear on under her towel, but she bared her upper body when pulling the loose sweater over her head, and finally she unwrapped her hair.

Barry leaned down to kiss her before taking her hand and leading them back to the bedroom. It felt like a reward, somehow, and Iris made a point to let it settle her down.

In bed, under the blankets, Barry spooned her. It wasn’t how she typically slept. Usually she’d cuddle into his side, rest on his chest, but being wrapped so wholly, her back against something so solid and warm had an impact. She needed the comfort.

“Barry?” she whispered in the dark.

“Hm?” he hummed against her ear.

“The things that have changed…” she started.

He raised his head from the pillow they shared, waiting as he looked over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

She wet her lips before continuing. “Does it make you feel like… Like you’re in –”

“The wrong place?” he finished for her. “Yes,” he continued as he settled behind her. “Except for you.”

Iris tightened her arms on top of his, shadowing the ones that were wrapped around her. “I feel like I watched her just take everything from me,” she confided numbly. “And I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything, I didn’t save myself.”

“Iris.” Barry tried.

“I was just starting to feel like we could relax after Crisis and then…” she trailed off with a huff with breath.

Barry stroked his thumb up and down the part of her arm he could reach without loosening his hold on her. “I know this was…different, but we save each other. In whatever form that comes in. Whether it’s the team, or us, we do it together, right? I’ve needed help so many times.”

“This has left…” she swallowed back new tears welling in her eyes. “A mark, Barry.” She didn’t know what she was supposed to do to make things normally again. How many people had gone through what she was? She couldn’t even think of anything like it that would give instruction on how to handle it, on how reasonable she was being, if she was overreacting, numbing it. Savitar came to mind, but it flitted away soon after.

“I know. But I promise you, Iris, it’s not one you have alone,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Not just for…” he paused, making her frown because she wasn’t sure what he was about to say. “Not just for not being strong enough for you but…” he paused again, for longer.

Iris turned her head towards him. “What is it?”

He tilted his head, leaning against hers. “I held back, because of emotion,” he said. “The decision I made, more than once, was because of my fear,” he let out a small exhale she felt on her neck. “I know with how much we’ve been through I should – ”

“It’s okay, Barry.” Iris cut him off.

“No, it’s not,” he dismissed. “I don’t know how to…unlearn it, Iris. With the way our lives are, I – .”

“I know,” she interrupted again. She wasn’t sure she could have this conversation right now. It felt like something they were never going to get better at. And Barry was right, their lives made it so much harder. She reminded herself that this hadn’t been like other times, and he hadn’t lied to her. She could deal with that. Besides, she was aware of her own failings too – she’d shut him out; she’d had to come to her. “I didn’t talk to you either. It’s just something we have to keep working on, together.” She tried.

“But I’m supposed to be strong for the both of us when you can’t be.” He pushed back.

“You are being strong for me, now,” she said, tagging on the word because she felt unable to completely deny his comment. She kept still, avoiding any hurt her wording would cause him. “For us.” She added in a whisper, reaching out as much as she could, giving something.

Barry let it go, thankfully. “I was thinking,” he started, the change of tone signalling a change of subject too. “I know you said you don’t want to change your life and I understand that but…maybe we could…redecorate the loft? I mean, I did choose everything myself. We could do it together this time, like other couples? And it might help you feel like it’s yours again.”

“No.” she firmly denied.

“No?” he questioned her single word answer.

She tightened the hold he had on her again. “Barry, I _love_ our loft. If I have to give it all up, she wins – they win.” She explained. It was another thing she just wouldn’t do. It was her place, her place with Barry. No one was taking it from her – and she wasn’t going to give it up.

“Whatever you want.” Barry accepted; she could hear the understanding smile in his voice.

“A new bed.” She said after a moment. One for a married couple, instead of a live-in couple, she reasoned to herself, following some of Barry’s logic. Dimly, she wished she had some kind of DIY skills so she could do something with the soon-to-be old headboard so she wasn’t completely giving in.

“Okay.” he agreed.

Iris turned in his arms until she was facing him.

He reached out to run the back of his fingers along her cheek. “I’m so in love with you, Iris.” He whispered.

She didn’t respond vocally, instead burrowing herself as close as she could.

Iris found herself practically blinking awake without much fuss. Even though she felt quite alert, the lack of light in the room along with the continued heavy weight she was starting to get used to told her she hadn’t been asleep for long.

In sleep, she’d separated from Barry some but was still in the circle of his arms. She stared at his chest opposite her. The pale skin, the path of moles, the strength that lay in his muscles. She knew it all so well, even in the dark.

Holding her breath, she reached out and placed a hand flat against him, feeling the warmth, the rise and fall of his breath, his heartbeat. When he didn’t stir, she switched to stroking an index from mole to mole, numbly distracting herself as she fell into her attention of him and nothing else.

After some time, Barry started to wake up, his body stretching and moving in a way she followed. When he moved more, seemingly coming to consciousness, Iris switched her focus from his chest to his face. Upon the flickering of his eyes, she shamefully found herself stilling and slamming her own eyes shut as though she were still asleep.  
It was an instinct she wasn’t happy with, but she felt it anyway, she stayed still anyway.

Then Barry leaned forward and kissed her forehead, bringing emotion to her chest again.

She opened her eyes and found his. If he knew she’d been pretending, he didn’t show any disappointment in her, only giving her a sleepy, closed-mouth smile that made her want to cry for a whole other mess of reasons.

Without saying anything, Iris let herself close her eyes again and nudged closer to Barry. Continuing to keep in line with her and her thinking as he had through the night now, Barry gently pulled the blankets higher, cocooning her in a way that had her sighing into his shoulder.

Just her, and Barry.

_Her_ Barry.

When she next woke up, she became aware of Barry’s thumb rubbing back and forth on her upper arm through her sweater. Barry was the one awake and watching her this time. He smiled seeing her open her eyes and his grip tightened a little. “I missed you,” he said, like he’d been waiting a while to say it. “I feel like I can be…strong, again.” He said almost proudly. He looked strong, brightened.

“That must be nice,” she half-mumbled bitterly; his face didn’t fall, still looking practically joyful with all his attention on her. Still, she felt bad for what she’d said, though not enough that she could make herself apologise. “I missed you too.” She said instead. It was something honest.

The thumb on her upper arm became a whole hand, stroking up and down in reward for her effort. “I’ve been thinking about Thawne.” He said after some silence.

“Okay?” she frowned.

“And the Wells from this earth – from what was Earth 1,” he corrected himself. “Thawne took over his life, his identity.”

“Sure, except people from his life like Dr McGee knew he was like a whole other person,” she said dryly – resentfully. This time she did feel the need to apologise. “Sorry.” She sighed.

“It’s okay.” He dismissed, his expression still loving as moments before. It flared a feeling she didn’t want, a thought to push him until he wasn’t looking at her like that anymore.

“It’s okay that I’m making passive aggressive digs at my husband? That I wake up feeling angry and resentful? How is that okay, Barry?” she asked, feeling frustration build again. She was getting so sick of this.

“Be-cause,” he started slowly, calm to her ranting, as he used his hand to pull her a little closer. It felt more symbolic than physically bringing them together. “It’s just this second, just this morning. And because it’s _us_ , Iris. I…I understand,” he added more gently. “And there’s nothing you can do that would make me judge you or love you any less.”

Iris stared at his eyes, open and taking her in. “Barry,” she said with a fearful tremble of her voice. “I feel a want to test that.” She whispered, the tremble becoming tearful. That wasn’t the kind of marriage she wanted. Bitterness and things unsaid. Unequal, and apart. It wasn’t them – it had never been them.

His look didn’t waiver. “What else do you feel? Further down, what else?”

With a deep breath in and out, Iris closed her eyes and let herself feel. “Your fingers – and it’s…it’s soothing, it’s _comfort_.” She concentrated on the back and forth of the stroking up and down her arms until her breathing evened out some.

“What else?” he repeated patiently.

She wet her lips as she expanded further to her surroundings. “Warm,” she added. Her stomach suddenly rumbled, making her laugh. “Hungry.” She smiled, opening her eyes again.

Barry was grinning at her. “Do you want to get up? Breakfast in bed? We could go out?” he offered, his eyebrows raising with each option.

It was too much. “What do _you_ want?” she countered, and narrowing her scope of thought.

He blinked at her, taking barely a second to decide. “I’ll be as fast as I can.” He promised, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead even though she knew she would barely notice him gone.

She didn’t even have time to properly sit up by the time he was back, standing at the edge of the bed fully clothed and with a tray boasting a mixed selection of food – a small vase holding a single light pink rose too. “Love,” she said softly, listing more. “Appreciation. Lucky,” she gave a small smile, staring up at him. With a nod, she adjusted herself, moving to set crossed leg and preparing herself to have breakfast with her husband, and for what came after. “Okay.”

“Aren’t you going to work?” Iris asked as she bit into the last pieces of fruit. Barry gave a shrug, apparently dismissing it. He probably didn’t want to leave her, she supposed. “I should get to the office. I have a story to finish.” She offered, giving him something of an out.

Pausing with a gulp of coffee, Barry stared at her with surprise. “You’re writing it?” he questioned, making her pin him with glare. “It’s just…should you be doing the story of something you were a victim of?” he gave a one-shoulder shrug.

Swallowing her food, she licked her lips of fruit juice. “It’s my story.” She insisted.

“Iris.” Barry tempered gently, his calm and gentle approach annoying her again.

“What?” she snapped. “It’s my story, Barry. And it’s a big story! Who else would I give it to?”

He shrugged reasonably, again. “I don’t know, someone at CCPN you still trust?”

“So you want me to give it up? They take that too?” she stared at him with raised eyebrows, challenging him.

He didn’t take the bait, instead, putting down his cup and moving the tray until there wasn’t anything between them. Then he took her hand in his and lowered his head to fully meet her eyes. “I want you to get back to doing what you love. I want you to get through all of this without feeling like you’ve been compromised,” he tried. Iris broke their eye contact, unsure how she felt that he was getting through to her. She remembered Frost's words. “Iris, as a boss, would you let someone as close to it write it?”

“I’ve written about you when I was involved.” She pointed out, not willing to give in quite yet.

“In your blog,” he reasoned. “It’s different now.”

“ _Vanishing in Crisis_? That was a Citizen story.” Iris continued to argue.

Still, he didn’t take the bait. His expression and tone were still open and reasonable. “In a different timeline. The paper was more established. I’m sure it was a choice you made for a reason, but I don’t think you were writing about The Flash every other day. You…you started The Flash’s journey, Iris. It would make sense for you to…” he trailed off with yet another shrug. Barry’s kind of shrug. Instead of being dismissive, it somehow bridged a connection, like his implied suggestion was an offering.

“End it?” she finished for him anyway. She sighed with frustration. “I’m not letting anyone have this story, it’s too big,” she held firm. “But I’ll…I’ll make it an editorial special, maybe an op-ed. Full disclosure. Well, not _full_ , but…” Iris gave her own shrug, adding a roll of her eyes for good measure.

None of it dimmed Barry; he beamed at her. “I love you.” He said before leaning in to give her a kiss.

Iris licked the taste of coffee from her lips. “You’d better,” she grumbled before sitting with her back against the headboard. She eyed Barry, a new thought coming to mind, Barry's thinking reminding her of her conversation with Frost. “Would you like to train with me?” she asked. Her husband gave a deer-in-headlights look; she could almost hear him trying to navigate Iris wanting to lead again, wondering if she thought he was doing something wrong. “Train _me_ , not you,” she clarified with an amused smile before she explained. “I don’t think boxing is going to make me feel…right again. It’s not about feeling like I can’t defend myself – not like before – but… Frost told me that it’s okay if I’m angry. I’d like to channel it in a better way.”

The look cleared, his eyes brightening again. “Yeah, of course.” He said enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically, a grin lining his mouth again.

She tilted her head at him. “It isn’t a date, Barry.”

“But it could be…fun,” he countered, not swayed by her dismissal. “We should put a punching bag in STAR Labs anyway!” he said, his eyebrows furrowing with effort as he tried to look plainly logical.

“We don’t need a ring.” She shot down, aware of his thinking.

Barry opened and closed his mouth before trying to find some words. “I wasn’t…” he trailed off, avoiding her stare. “There’s space for it in the downstairs training room. Wouldn’t be the worst idea.” He said under his breath with a near pout.

“Do you really want Ralph and Frost going at it?” she asked judgingly.

“No?” he hedged under her stare. “Don’t you?” he questioned after some silence.

Iris couldn’t hold her laugh; Barry joined her, both in amusement as well as putting the tray on the floor before sitting with her at the head of the bed, his body aligned with hers. He took her hand again, playing with her fingers.

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she settled into the moment. Second by second, she thought of Barry’s words. He wasn’t wrong. “Thank you for breakfast.” She said softly.

He regripped her hand in his, resting them on his lap. “You and me.”

“You and me.” She repeated back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm done! Thank you for reading this, and especially so many thank yous for kudos and comments - I needed them to continue this one.
> 
> And yay! I finished a chaptered fic! (that's gotten hard for me lately). So thank you.

A week later Iris was staring at him accusingly with her hand on her hips.

“It isn’t a ring!” he justified as they both turned to the twin punching bags and mats he had laid out in the downstairs training room. He'd even added a stand with a pair of gloves, and towels. A permanent area of the room, if he were honest about it.

His wife smirked at him. “And this one?” she asked, wandering over to the second punching bag. She ran her hand down it, giving it a nudge until it swayed slightly. He shouldn’t find it sexy, really he shouldn’t, but it was Iris, and she was getting that spark back. “This for you?”

“Maybe.” He hedged with a shrug, not even bothering to try to hide his smile.

She shook her head at him, but her own smile was fond. “I said this wasn’t going to be a date.”

“I took a chance,” he shrugged unapologetically. “Come on. This is useful! Upstairs is designed for speedsters, but everyone else?” he tried to win her over. Without Wally, even Jessie, around, it made sense to focus training on the others. Barry was pretty sure Cisco would jump at the chance to properly suit the place up anyway. Well, except from this area that Barry was feeling a little possessive about.

“And the mats?” she asked before quirking an eyebrow at him. “Are we getting down and dirty, Barry?” she flirted.

Even with her simply teasing, Barry’s body responded – he didn’t have a chance. “Would it be the worst thing? My fighting style really could use some development – I rely on my speed too much.” He argued.

Her lips tugged into a smile. “Ah-huh.” She hummed as she looked around at the equipment again.

Barry walked over to her until he was blanketing her back, and wrapped his arms around her stomach. “What’d you think, really? Does it help?”

“It’s not bad,” she allowed as she leaned back into him. “Thanks.” She said more sincerely, turning her head slightly towards him.

“You’ve been doing great.” He praised. She really had been. He felt like they’d moved past minute by minute into day by day, and each day she gained her confidence back. It was amazing to watch, and he was just thankful he was a part of it.

They’d stayed with Joe and Cecile for another night before going back to the loft. He’d had to hold back on his own instinct to change everything himself, to just fix it for her, however he could. But he knew it was a slower process than that, and it wasn’t as simple as material – but surroundings did help and he wanted Iris to want to be in their home. So in between metas, they’d gone out shopping, like normal married couples who had time for home design. Barry had probably enjoyed it more than one should, but he’d realised how much he’d missed out on by making the decisions by himself. Back when he’d felt the insistence to make the loft a home for her as soon as possible, when he’d been so worried about losing her that he’d rushed in desperation to have that life with her, before it was taken away. But they'd chosen a new bed together, paid extra for quick delivery, and actually dressed it together too.

“I think it’s getting easier.” She whispered thoughtfully, still in his arms.

“That’s good.” He dripped his head against hers.

Iris started to turn and he loosened his hold to allow her to move until she was facing him. She looped her arms around his neck and stared up at him with bright eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled back, feeling as captivated as he always had. Before he knew it, Iris had taken a single step back and swept a leg under him until he fell on his back on the mat. She’d even used the arms she’d had around him to shift the momentum of his weight and height compared to hers. “Iris!” he cried in shock.

“Too slow, Flash.” She said with attitude as she stared down at him.

Iris West-Allen was hot.

His wife was hot.

He couldn’t keep the thoughts out as she continued to stand over him. Then she held her hand out to help him up and Barry remembered for exactly how long he had loved her. And she loved him back, and they were together, through all of it.

The glow of her was back, and Barry had spent the last week revelling in it, become more and more aware of how exactly how much he had missed her while she was gone.

The session they’d had was fun – he’d been right, even if she’d caught him off guard more than once with a gloved-punch to the stomach that brought up a lot of memories.

“Shower?” she suggested after a while, flushed and happy and practically bouncing. Barry followed the hairs of her braid that had loosened and stuck to her neck with sweat. Why had they never done this before, he couldn’t help berating himself.

He swallowed before having to clear his throat. “Hm mm, shower, yep.”

Iris smirked at him, fully aware of his thinking; he was fine with it.

They undressed and cleaned each other in a shower at STAR Labs – another thing they’d never done before.

Iris sniffed the body wash, crinkling her nose up at it; Barry made a note to add another option soon, something different than her usual product but something she’d like. That was something he could still simply fix for her, make better for her, without being too much.

“Ugh.” She complained as she tried to towel-dry her hair with difficulty.

Barry leaned down to kiss her. “You look beautiful.” He said sincerely. Barry supported whatever she chose for herself, whether by an individual day or something more significant, but he loved her hair however she wore it. And he remembered her struggling with it growing up, without her mom to help, and Joe trying. He liked that he got to see her with her natural hair, that she trusted him enough, and in turn maybe he helped her feel confident enough to let others see how amazing she looked.

Her look softened, believing him and sparking his own content. “Thank you.”

Barry kissed her again, an open-mouth meet of lips and tongue that lasted long enough to feel the strands of her hair wet his temple.

“I saw your article is still getting a lot of hits.” He said once they were getting dressed again. Her hair was still damp, and without product. She kept touching it, trying to tame and guide as much as possible over one shoulder. Barry swept some over the shoulder she was trying to keep it from, trying to help, but most of it bounced back. He settled for twirling the ends of a curl around his finger instead.

“Yeah,” she gave a thoughtful smile. “I’m glad I wrote it,” she said with some fierceness as she raised her chin. It melted into another soft smile as she met his eyes. “And I’m glad you made me write it properly. If this is one of the stories that helps get the Citizen to the next level, I want to be able to look back and know that I did it right. Professionally. Unbound and uncompromised.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Barry smiled at her.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said before cupping his cheek, smoothing her thumb back and forth; the press of her nail sending a thrill he loved. “You and me.”

Barry beamed. “You and me.”

She tilted her head and back again thoughtfully, twisting her lips as she dropped her hand from his face. “Sometimes me.” She shrugged in mock-seriousness.

With a laugh, Barry wrapped his arm over her shoulder. “I’m okay with that.” He smiled. He understood how important it was for her to find herself again, both within them and apart from him. It wasn’t how he himself worked, but he knew how independent Iris was, and he was okay with it because she didn’t exclude him. Instead, it was the trust she had in him, the comfort she had in their marriage and relationship that showed in the way she chose to involve him so much. It was that she wanted to involve him that made him feel he was with her through it all. He didn’t feel left behind, or separated from her – all the difference to the weeks before.

Iris draped her arm across his back in kind, hugging in close at his side. “We going home?” she asked softly as she tilted her head back to look up and meet his eyes.

Barry nodded, staring lovingly at his wife. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to have Iris with natural hair in the previous chapter (that is one scene from this season I have seen) but I also just really wanted a Westallen scene with her hair wrapped. Especially considering she never seems to sleep with it wrapped. So, I ended up adding this chapter to have both.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this. I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading.
> 
> Spoiler: I will never do a fic that ends badly between them. It's just not possible.


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